


Remember

by mrpq



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 08:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13162920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrpq/pseuds/mrpq
Summary: Damian's return from death and his discovery that Dick Grayson is "dead"





	Remember

**Author's Note:**

> uhmm im always bitter that DC never rlly showed us how Damian dealt with Dicks "death" when he came back. Kinda wanted to write it out. Hope you enjoy it!

Damian can remember the day of his return all too clearly. He remembers suddenly being conscious and the warm floor beneath him. He remembers his eyes fluttering open and seeing his father’s soft smile and feeling his warm embrace. He remembers the way Todd clapped his back. The awkward but reassuring handshake from Drake. His soaked shoulder where Pennyworth wept. Gordon’s hand on his back. And most of all, he remembers the pang of pain when he realized Richard wasn’t there. 

Once they had gotten back to the manor, it felt as if he had never left. The grounds remained just as maintained as before. Alfred curled on his stomach when he was lying on the couch. Of course, he would always catch his father giving him the occasional sideways glance when he though Damian wasn’t looking and smiling to himself. As if to reassure himself that Damian really was alive and well. 

And then there was the matter of his newly acquired powers which had distracted him greatly from asking about Richard. He had meant to ask when they had returned but alas it was only after he was back to his mortal self that he remembered. He hadn’t really pressed too much on the issue. He knew that often there were big cases to be solved. Leads to chase that pulled you out of town and ate away the time. It stung to think about so Damian had pushed it to the back of his mind. So when nearly a month had passed since his return, he had told himself that their way of life was busy. Richard would come when he was ready. When the heavy weight feeling in his heart was too much to bear, he made up his mind to go ask. 

He remembers walking into the kitchen in the evening and casually inquiring about Richard’s whereabouts. He remembers seeing Pennyworths face twisting with sorrow. It dawns on him then and suddenly his father’s tense shoulders. His sometimes empty eyes. Long moments of silently staring into space for hours at a time. Overworking himself until he was broken.

The realization had turned his blood cold. 

He remembers realizing how much he had been looking forward to seeing Richard. To talk to him about his death and hear him crack an awful joke about it. To hear his warm laughter and the half glances in Damian’s direction. To have him pull Damian into a hug and reluctantly accept it. 

He remembers how suddenly vast the Mansion had felt. Unbearably empty and eerily quiet. Damian could not help but hate it. Perhaps a year ago, he would have cherished the quiet moments but now they happened often, stretching for days and weeks. His father had been making an effort to speak more but it just wasn’t the same as the penthouse. It wasn’t enough and he had to jam his earphones in to drown out the silence.With Richard gone, there was nothing to fill to silences. No one to mediate the conversations. No one to pull together their crumbling family

Since learning of Richard’s death, Damian had done all that he could to research. Find some kind of missing clue that would lead him to different answer. When his father had warned him to stop searching, claiming that it was too painful of a path for Damian to wander on, it pushed him on further, searching in secret for any hint. Because there was no way that he could be dead. He would know. He would feel it. 

\-- 

Now it’s been nearly five months since he had known. He found himself standing in front of Grayson’s grave, a soft wind blowing against his face. His sketchbook clutched at his side. The pages inside filled with drawing of disconnected smiles, crinkled eyes and long blue striped fingers. Capturing the small pieces of him from his memory and committing them to paper gave him some comfort. The only reminder of Richard besides the gravestone in front of him. 

When he kneels down on the ground like he had done before thousands of times before he notices a small shiny rock poking out of the ground. Without thinking, he reaches towards the rock, rubbing his thumb over it’s smooth surface. He tries to pull it out but it seems to be bigger than he thought and he moves the dirt around it to loosen it from the ground. He moves closer and begins using both hands to dig around the rock. 

He doesn’t remember exactly when he forgot all about the rock in favor of digging away frantically at the dirt. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that there’s a sensor and his father will be alerted of this. But it feels unimportant. The soil moves easily beneath his fingers. It’s comforting. Repetitive. 

He keeps digging with his hands until it gets dark and even then he does not stop. He needs to get to the bottom he needs- 

At last his fingers scrape against something hard and smooth.The coffin. 

He is deep in the grave, the stars and the fireflies the only source of light. His mind seems to have gone completely blank. With halted breath he wipes away the dirt until he can see the shine of the the maple wood underneath.

His hands are shaking as he breaks the clasp. His breathing shallow. He is afraid of what he will find inside.He gingerly lifts open the heavy lid and glance inside and his world comes crashing down. 

The coffin is empty. Richard Grayson is Alive.


End file.
